


Useful

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 13:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: The old saying that eavesdroppers never overhear anything good about themselves may be true. In Ravus' case, however, it began as a matter of survival.





	Useful

Fenestala Manor was still burning when Luna grabbed his arm tightly and pulled him back behind a bush as Imperial soldiers passed.  
  
"Any idea where the brats ended up?" The soldier’s voice was rough.  
  
"Nah, with any luck Glauca got them too. Nasty job."  
  
"But necessary."  
  
A grunt of agreement, then both moved on.  
  
Wide-eyed, Ravus turned to look at Luna. Her cheeks were smeared with soot and tears, her eyes rimmed with red, and he knew he looked no better.  
  
Her voice, however, was steady and strong, even as she whispered. "We need to find someone in charge."  
  
He nodded and placed her behind him with a sweep of his arm. Together, they began to navigate the twisted and charred remains of what had once been beautiful gardens surrounding their home.  
  
Weeks later, Ravus lingered, nervous, behind a closed door.  
  
"The girl is the Oracle. The other one is - useless. Why are we keeping him around? He's just a rallying point for these idiots who think they can still have a prince." A woman's voice.  
  
Then, a slow, elderly man.  "Maybe make an example of him for all those would-be resisters popping up here and there."  
  
The woman responded eagerly. "Oh, that's perfect. A grim display; the more painful the better." 

They were both interrupted by a third voice, in a lazy, languid tone. "He may yet be useful. Give it time. No rash decisions."  
  
Ravus' mind raced. He pushed down the fury and terror that rose in his throat to walk away silently.  One word continued to sound in his mind over and over. _Useful_. He looked at his hands, turning them over.

* * *

Another door; another group of people casually dismissing his fate as if he were an extra piece of furniture. Ravus hated listening at doors; hated sneaking, scuttling, pretending not to hear things.

He hated it less than he loved Luna. Less than the idea that, with their former prince continuing to escape execution, the people of Tenebrae might have something left to cling to.

“Such a sullen boy.”

“Too busy creating his own problems and trying to start fights over nothing.”

“Why can’t he be more like his sister? So pleasant.”

As he walked the halls of the manor, Ravus swallowed each insult in proud silence. They burned all the way down.

* * *

Many of the men of Tenebrae wore their hair long; flowing. Not in braids like in Galahd, but free and unbound.

As a sign of ownership and of Tenebrae’s complete defeat, they'd shaved Ravus’ head the day after the General murdered his parents.

It grew back white.

He wore it long after that, as long as he dared, and endured the slights and taunts about his vanity in silence. In service.

Very few people saw him, isolated as he and Lunafreya were inside the manor. It didn’t matter. He stood with and for Tenebrae nonetheless.

Left with no adults to turn anything toward him but animosity, Ravus thought often of his mother’s final moment - flinging her arms wide to shield her children from Glauca’s fury.

Sylva hadn’t been granted the mercy of any last words, but Ravus had understood her just the same.

He kept her with him, the best he could.

* * *

_Useful_. The word echoed as he struck at the practice dummy, again and again, until it was too dark to see.

As he ran increasing numbers of laps inside the tight borders of the grounds they were allowed, it thrummed to the rhythm of his feet.

 _Useful._ It trailed at the end of a steamy breath in the snow as he struggled to pull himself up over a beam, then did it again, until his arms failed and he dropped to the ground.

He heard it in three different languages as he stole books, stayed up late to creep into the family library unobserved, to continue the education he'd barely begun when his world was cast to ruin.

 _Useful._ It echoed, and Ravus forged himself into a weapon, not just because it was the only way to stay alive, though that was the immediate reason. He hated, too, and loved, just as fiercely as he feared.

As the years passed, the fear diminished, though the threats did not. No longer a terrified boy, Ravus often needed to remind himself that the satisfaction and splendor of a quick, rash death at the pleasure of his anger was not worth the inevitable punishment that would be levied on his sister and his countrymen afterward.

 _Useful_. The word still had meaning, though it now served as a taunt, a fulfilled prophecy. They'd indulged his little swordplay for too long, they said. He'd gotten too strong, too quickly, while they weren't looking. He knew their battle plans. They had no choice but to make him High Commander, as it happened. Forces both inside and outside Fenestala Manor demanded it.  

Ravus no longer listened at doors as a matter of survival, but he still did it every now and then, though the new bulk of his six-foot-plus frame made silence more difficult.

Still, you never knew what you might hear. Sometimes it was useful.

**Author's Note:**

> For Ravus Week 2018, Day 1, prompt: Ravus' teenage years.


End file.
